


Time Together

by samariumwriting



Series: Dimidue Week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cooking, Dimidue Week 2019, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: Every week, at six in the evening, Dimitri and Dedue abandoned their duties and work. For the rest of the evening, the time was their own, and they spent it together.





	Time Together

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece for Dimidue Week, which starts today. It's being run on twitter @DimidueWeek. The first prompt I've followed is Cooking!

The same as every week; the clock struck six in the palace’s clock tower, and Dimitri put his quill pen down. Admittedly, he’d been sparing a glance at the clock every so often in the last hour or so. It was always difficult to focus, knowing the end of the day was coming soon.

A soft knock on the door to his office; the same as every week. “Come in, Dedue,” he called, placing his papers to the side. All pressing, of course, and all deserving of attention, but this was his time. His and Dedue’s, and not Duke Aegir’s.

“Good evening, Dimitri,” Dedue said, bringing a smile to his face. Hearing his name from Dedue’s lips never, ever grew mundane. The sound was always precious. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular today?”

“I thought it was your turn to choose,” he said with a soft frown. He could have sworn that he had picked their meal last week. Maybe he had forgotten, but…

“Perhaps,” Dedue said with a thoughtful frown of his own. It wasn’t like Dedue to forget, which meant Dimitri had forgotten, and that felt awful. “I will choose then, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” he said, happy to dismiss the idea that he’d managed to forget something so simple. He stood up from his desk and stretched, glad to leave his work behind for the evening.

It was a very simple way for them to spend time together, but it was something Dimitri was very happy to do. He wasn’t much a fan of cooking; the inability to taste test hindered him rather and he wasn’t the most confident with the various utensils Dedue was so familiar with. But that didn’t mean he minded.

After all, anything was worth seeing the soft, thoughtful smile on Dedue’s face, and Dimitri loved spending time with him more than almost anything else. Spending quiet, simple time together. He wouldn’t wish for anything more. Nothing complicated, nothing taxing, just...time spent together.

The dish Dedue wanted to prepare together that evening was easy enough. He handed Dimitri a pestle and mortar and an ingredient he was hopeless at recognising but knew smelt nice. This was perhaps the easiest task he could be given, leaving Dedue to the more delicate task of finely chopping some vegetables and getting the bones out of the fish.

They didn’t talk while they worked. Sometimes they did, if the silence was bothering Dimitri too much, or something particularly notable had happened and either of them wanted to share it. But talking was usually left for eating the food, or the evening that stretched on ahead of them.

As it was, they prepared the food in silence, and as Dedue cooked it, occasionally handing the spoon to Dimitri so he felt at least a little like he was contributing. His free hand drifted into Dedue’s own, as it often did in these simple moments they shared together. It wasn’t an affection they spoke about often, nor did they need to. Things were easy between them these days, and these gestures came more naturally than breathing at times.

When they were done, they cleared out of the kitchen, leaving the chefs to clean up (they insisted Dimitri have nothing to do with the washing or handling of anything once it had been used and he understood that after their first few attempts), with a plate of food each.

As they always did in the summer months, they carried the two plates out to the gardens to their usual secluded spot. Dimitri couldn’t care less about who saw him with Dedue, or what they saw him doing, but Dedue preferred they be a little more private. He didn’t want people saying hurtful things about Dimitri because of his actions.

In his opinion, he’d rather they say those things, so he could see who he couldn’t trust. If someone didn’t care for Dedue’s presence, or saw him as something negative, Dimitri didn’t want them wielding power. But he knew enough of Dedue’s fears and anxieties that he could respect his wishes. It was worth it, to see the soft smiles on his face that only emerged when they were in private. No statement to racist nobles was worth more than that.

A midsummer evening meal in the gardens with just the two of them was...for a long time, Dimitri hadn’t seen himself as deserving of any happiness. But if the Goddess could permit such evenings to exist between them, week after week, he was willing to hope that maybe he was allowed just this one thing.

They talked until there was nothing left on either plate. Then they talked an hour more, before the light was fading so much that they could barely see across the table to each other. That was when they always retired back up to Dimitri’s quarters, to candlelight.

Those were the warmest hours of the night. The two of them would sit for hours more, no thought of work or duties in their minds. This was their time, and theirs alone. They sat close to one another, until their easy conversation and easy laughter lapsed into an easy silence.

It ended, as it regretfully always had to, with Dimitri’s head on Dedue’s shoulder. He always tired more easily than Dedue, the years alone perhaps having taken their toll on his health and energy. It was something they had discussed, but it wasn’t a topic for these long, happy nights.

Usually, Dedue let his head rest for a while. A few minutes, perhaps, before recommending he go to bed. Dimitri was always reluctant to part with him, mindful of the fact that it would be a week before this night would come again. It wasn’t like they didn’t speak often; they spoke daily, and ate meals together when Dimitri wasn’t otherwise engaged.

But their cooking nights, the precious time they spent together every week with no interruption, no conditions, those were the most treasured times of his week. In particularly rough moments, it was remembering that a cooking night would come again that drove him forwards, sometimes.

The night ended, though, as it always did; Dedue helped him to bed, pretending he was too tired to walk on his own even though they both knew better. They’d sit for a while, before Dimitri got ready for bed properly. Dedue would be the one to blow out the candle, press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and make his way out.

“Goodnight, Dedue,” he called softly, every week, when Dedue stood in the light of the doorway.

“Goodnight, Dimitri.” In the beginning, the goodnight would be followed by an affirmation that they would do the same next week. By now, it was a given, and went unsaid. Dimitri wouldn’t give up that precious time for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed :) Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts, it's greatly appreciated. I'll be writing for the other days in this week too, so if you want to see more of these lads you can subscribe to the series (I think??).


End file.
